Trestraou
by Phantress
Summary: Entirely Leroux based. Details the beginnings of Raoul and Christine's relationship through the eyes of the elder Daae. Oneshot.


I do not own Raoul, Christine or Papa Daae…however much I do adore them, they belong to Gaston Leroux. Sadness!

This was a not-so-short one-shot that I hope you all will enjoy! Please read and review!

I lowered my bow but remained playing an old Swedish tune on my violin to look over at my daughter who sat quietly on a tattered rug on the ground next to Raoul. I often played simples tunes so I would be able to watch them closely when they believed I was not paying them any mind.

I counted my blessing, and often praised God in my evening prayers that innocence and childish-like indifference to the evils of the world had not yet been lost to my Christine.

I had had my reservations with allowing Christine to play with a young boy she had met on the shoreline after I had discovered his high pedigree. It had begun simply. Christine often would run ahead of me when we were walking down the beach – I found it easier to walk along the shoreline then to walk on the hard gravel of the poor streets in Brittany – when a strong wind caught her thin red scarf and carried it into the grey sea. Walking among the dunes a little to the left of us I had previously noticed a well dressed young boy – he could not have been older then ten – walking along with what appeared to be a governess, or a maid.

To my surprise, that same young boy immediately heard Christine's cry of dismay and fled from his nanny's side and sprinted into the high tide without a thought and retrieved the scarf. As he stumbled back to the shore, the scarf held high above his head which made me laugh for it was already drenched, he suddenly realized what he had done and lowered his head in embarrassment.

I quickly walked to Christine's side and put my hands on her shoulders. When the little boy finally made his way to where we were standing, he shoved the scarf into Christine's outstretched little hands and turned back around quickly. Fleeing from my hold, Christine ran to the boy and tapped his shoulder.

"Tack så mycket…" she giggled, putting her head in her hands, and quickly shot back up to correct herself in French, "_Thank you very much!_"

He looked at her blankly, and without waiting for a response, Christine stood up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek and then giggled again.

_Oh Lord, _I thought smiling, _what am I going to do with this child? _

From that day on, Christine and Raoul met and played every day underneath a vacationer's pier and in the evenings, Christine would beg for Raoul to join us for supper but I would always refuse and tell her that Raoul must eat with his own family.

"My family is not here, sir," he said one late afternoon.

"Where are they then?"

He scrunched his eyebrows and a serious look clouded his forehead and he began very matter-of-fact as if he had told people in the same manner many times before: "My mother died when I was born, and my Father died soon after that. Now my brother, Philippe, takes care of me. Right now he's back at home with my two older sisters. I'm staying with my aunt."

I was surprised by his frankness, but I did now show it.

"Raoul, you would be more then welcome to come join us for dinner, however, I would need to speak with your aunt first."

He nodded in understanding and said he would ask his aunt to speak with me the following day.

I met with his aunt not the next day, but the following. I explained to her briefly the new friendship that had formed between the young children. The aunt was no doubt taken aback by how Christine and I both lived and were dressed, but remained polite. We made a little arrangement between the two of us that Raoul would receive violin lessons from myself, then eat supper with us four nights out of the week. After our deal had been completed, we stood silently watching the children walk along the beach: Christine barefoot, and holding up the hem of her dress that was already wet by the incoming tide, Raoul sitting on a dune and watching her flounce around and chatter away without a care in the world.

"The Comte has great hopes for his young brother," the aunt said suddenly.

I was taken aback by the turn of conversation, but I simply put a hand to my beard and murmured that I could see why he would.

"Raoul is a fine boy, and will grow up to be a good man."

The aunt nodded curtly and then turned began to walk back to her home, only turning back to remind me to have Raoul home by nine as we had agreed.

I had feared in the beginning of the summer that Raoul would be surprised by how meagerly we lived, as he only knew the grandeur of his home, and that of his aunt. However, he did not show any reaction at all, and simply followed Christine's example to learn how things were done at our little shanty.

I finished my song and put the bow down on the ground.

Jumping up in excitement, Christine ran to my side and bounced into my lap before I had a chance to sit the violin down on the table all the way.

"That was my _favorite_, Papa!" she exclaimed.

"You say everyone is your favorite, Lotte!" Raoul exclaimed from his place on the rug.

"Lotte?" I echoed, "I don't believe I have ever told you that story…" I said, trying not to smile.

"Yes, yes you have, Papa," said Christine, imperiously, "you have told that one a thousand times!"

"No, no, Christine," I mimicked her tone back, "I do not believe I have. In fact, I must tell you now!"

"_Yes, Papa! _You have told us, I know the story. Little Lotte thought of everything and—"

"Your Father is right," Raoul said seriously, for he caught on to my lead, "I do not believe your Father has ever told it and I believe he should tell it now. Because…we need to _hear _the _story!_"

Christine opened her mouth to argue, and then slammed it shut when she realized the game we were playing.

"Papa, yes," she said earnestly, smoothing her blond curls with her hands, and then placing them in her lap, "you must tell it now."

Raoul inched his way over to my chair, until it seemed I had both children hanging on my knees.

"Little Lotte would think about everything, and about nothing," I lowered Christine to the ground so I could use my hands to enhance the tale. "as a summer bird, she soared in the sun's rays, wearing a spring crown on her blond curls."

Christine placed in invisible crown on her little head, and stretched out her arms, giggling. I continued. "Her soul was as clear and as blue as her eyes. She was affectionate to her mother, loyal to her doll, and was very careful of her dress, her red shoes, and her violin. But more then anything else, she loved to hear the Angel of music as she was falling asleep."

I stopped for a moment to look at Raoul who was intently starring at Chrisine who was still lost in the world of Lotte. I stooped down and lifted her chin so she would open her eyes, and drew her up into my lap again.

"Christine, I have a very serious question for you." She in turn gave me her most serious look and waited patiently for the question, relishing being treated with such dignity. "If I could make it so – whether by waving a magic wand or just by using fairy dust – would you like to stay seven years-old for forever?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed quickly.

"Wait now," I warned, "this is a very serious question. That means you would never be married, never have children…you would have seventy seven year birthday parties, seventy more Christmases just like last year, and seventy more summers just like this."

"Yes, Papa! Make it so!"

I laughed heartily, and held her close. "Alas, Christine, I can not. I can only hope you enjoy being seven until you turn eight in September."

She frowned, which to her dismay only made me laugh again.

"Well, I don't want to stay nine."

I had nearly forgotten Raoul was there, and both Christine and I looked at him.

"I want to be a Captain in the Navy! And go to far-away places, and make great discoveries for France."

"Nevermind, Papa, I don't want to be seven for seventy years," she said softly, looking at Raoul, suddenly jealous of his sense of adventure and of the future.

"That's good, Christine, because I ran out of fairy dust and I seem to have misplaced my magic wand."

She flew from my lap and grabbed Raoul's hand and brought him to the window where they would wait until I had nearly finished cooking supper and I would ask them to set the table.

When I stood up, I began to cough and searched for my handkerchief in my vest pocket.

Raoul turned back, but Christine remained at her perch, oblivious to the world. "Are you alright, sir?"

"Yes, yes," I said smiling, and shooing him back to the window seat. Raoul hesitantly returned but was quickly drawn back into Christine's world of fairy dust, and singing angels.

I was silently grateful I would not live to see the age where Christine would realize society would not allow her and Raoul to marry and live together. _What a pity_, I thought. For he will be the only man besides I to ever understand the intricate places of her mind where reality was tangled with fairy tales that had been planted by me due to my inability to provide for her the lavish aspects of life that so many , like the child-Vicomte, received in surplus.


End file.
